


Unstable

by Laurea



Category: A Tale of Time City - Diana Wynne Jones
Genre: Gen, Post-Canon, Theories About Time City, Unstable Eras, Vivian's Mother
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-17
Updated: 2014-12-17
Packaged: 2018-03-01 23:33:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2791754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laurea/pseuds/Laurea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vivian's mother learns to cope with the changes Time City brought to her reality.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LookingForOctober](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LookingForOctober/gifts).



Cousin Marty’s letter about Vivian reached Joan Smith the same day that she heard the news about the explosion on Vivian’s train.

Joan had to work to hold her hands steady as she laid the two letters alongside one another on her kitchen table, Vivian’s usual chair looming empty across from her. Joan didn’t allow herself to look at the place where her daughter should be, focusing all her attention on the two contradictory letters instead.

The first letter, emblazoned with a stark government logo, had vague, boilerplate phrases that told her nothing and still too much.

_“We regret to inform you that your daughter, Vivian Smith, was a passenger on train 489 in its recent tragic explosion.”_

It went on about the unpredictability of radioactive fuel in uncertain conditions, the government’s deepest condolences, and other paltry phrases. Joan forced herself to read it through once entirely, even down to the stamped signature from some minor official.

Then she turned her attention to Cousin Marty’s letter, written in prim cursive as unrelentingly uniform as the printed letter. The indignation sizzled in the words, with all the fury Marty had always had for the young woman who had gone off to the big city with her handsome government husband.

_“As if it wasn’t bad enough you badgered me into taking in your dirty Cockney hoodlum, you deliberately hid the wretched boy’s gender from me. Had you bothered to send a birth announcement I would have known, but seeing as you never contact me unless you want something…”_

Marty went on in this vein for quite some time. Joan read it as thoroughly as the other, puzzling over the differences.

This boy could not have been Vivian, of course – there must have been some mistake there. But how on Earth had anyone from the train gone home with Cousin Marty if there had been an explosion? That letter didn’t mention the explosion at all, and surely it would have made enough of a sensation to break through even Marty’s considerable outrage.

It must have been some other train. They’d mixed up the numbers – the offices were all so busy now that the war had started – and these letters had been sent out automatically for the wrong passenger list.

But then why hadn’t Vivian ended up with Marty? Joan had repeated the instructions to her daughter over and over before sending her off, and Vivian had promised quite faithfully to follow them.

Joan tried not to think about that last moment, when she’d put her daughter on that train. Vivian had tried so hard not to look scared, and when she’d paused on the train door she’d tried to smile a brave goodbye. Joan had managed to blow her a kiss before Vivian had been hurried inside by the overworked train porter.

And now, despite Joan’s best efforts to keep her safely with family, Vivian had been swept away in the hordes of other lost children shipped blindly into the countryside. At best she would be lost and alone with too many other refugee children, and at worst –

Joan knocked the letters off the table with one sharp movement, and she fled the kitchen while the papers still fluttered to the floor.

_I should never have sent her away_ , Joan thought. _She didn’t want to leave, but she’s such a good girl. She went because I told her to go._

Desperate for some noise to distract her, Joan fumbled for the radio. It blared to life in a burst of static, and as one of the singers began crooning out a ballad, Joan could see Vivian laughing and twirling around the living room in her father’s arms.

Joan had always seen their family home as a sanctuary, but now she felt as though if she had to spend another moment there she would scream. She ran for the front door and wrenched it open –

And found herself face to face with a heavyset redheaded man with his fist raised to knock.

“Er – sorry,” the man said, looking rather taken aback at being confronted with a distraught woman. “Are you Mrs. Smith? That is, Joan Smith, Miss Vivian’s mother?”

Joan recognized the official air of someone with the government from all of her husband’s work, even if she couldn’t tell just what agency this man could possibly be from. Why would some government man want to talk to her? Why mention Vivian?

Perhaps it was all a mistake, and he was here to apologize and tell her where she could find her daughter. The hope was too much to bear. Almost as terrible came the dread, the possibility that he was here to confirm the worst.

“Yes,” Joan made herself say. “Yes, I’m Joan Smith.”

“Good,” the man said, looking relieved. “We thought we had the right place, but you wouldn’t believe how things have been shifting – well, not that it matters to you.” He shook his head. “I’m Abdul Donegal, and I’m here to take you to your daughter.”

“Vivian?” Joan went white. “She’s _alive_? But they said – the train – ”

“Oh, you’d heard about that already?” Abdul shook his head. “Of course they’d be quick about that part of it. There was an explosion, yes, but Vivian was safe. She’s been staying with some colleagues of mine while we got things organized. I can take you to her now.”

“Now?” Joan could hardly understand what he could mean. Vivian was alive, she was _safe_ – but did he want to take Joan on a train to the country? All the trains had been sold out, tickets couldn’t be gotten for love or money now. Or did he mean Vivian was here in London?

Abdul was fiddling with some sort of device he had cupped in one palm, looking apologetic. “It really does have to be now, if you want to go.”

Joan didn’t have to think about that any further. “Yes. Yes, of course I want to go to her!”

Abdul smiled. “Good!”

And then the street behind Abdul shimmered away, turned to the inside of a strange metallic room full of complicated machines and busy people.

Joan would have stepped back inside and shut the door in the face of this bizarre occurrence – but then she heard the voice she most longed to hear, calling, “Mum! _Mum_!”

Joan ran forward through the door into whatever strange metal place it now led, towards the place where her daughter might be.


	2. Chapter 2

The first aspect of life in Time City that Joan found the difficult was how easy it all was. Cleaning house, a task that usually took a great deal of her time and effort, now seemed to be accomplished mainly by pushing a series of buttons – and Joan wasn’t even expected to do the button pushing.

“The Annuate Palace staff sees to that,” a pleasant woman named Petula had said when Joan had inquired about dust cloths and a broom. “The Sempitern says you’re welcome to stay here as long as it takes for you to settle into Time City, so you needn’t worry about anything but adjusting.”

It had been a very kind offer from the Sempitern, who Joan gathered was some kind of government leader. She still hadn’t sorted out just how Vivian had come to meet such important people – there had been a very confusing story about cousins and time travel and a great many other people named Vivian – but they all seemed to be very fond of her, as they had all told Joan repeatedly.

However, they hadn’t told Joan much else. The city had been in some kind of dreadful trouble, and people were so busy trying to recover from it that they didn’t have time to explain much of anything.

In normal circumstances, Joan would have approached such a disaster by helping in any way she could – but there didn’t seem to be a great deal she was able to do.

Her husband Henry had thrown himself into one of the bureaucratic agencies with his usual ease. “Governments are the same anywhere,” he’d said with a laugh, and by the end of the day the others treated him as though he’d always been one of their team.

This had left Joan entirely at loose ends. She realized almost straight away that none of the women here seemed to be housewives. They didn’t need to be, not when all the household tasks Joan had spent her days doing could be finished by pushing a button or two. The women here seemed to be just as busy and involved in their government jobs as their husbands were.

Joan didn’t even need to do the cooking, the one household duty she’d always loved the most. When they’d settled in to their new rooms, the first thing Joan had done was look around for the kitchen. She’d found a table and chairs set up for them, but there didn’t seem to be anything to use to prepare food.

“Is the kitchen somewhere else?” Joan asked, puzzled.

“It isn’t a kitchen!” Vivian tugged her over to a strange device full of pipes and more buttons. “This is an automat. It’s much easier than a kitchen, see?”

“Does it store food?” Joan asked. “Well, if it has any of your canned pineapple, would you like to share a can of it?” She laughed, thinking of all the times in the past that she and Vivian had done just that. “If you can bear to give up a bite, that is.”

“No, it has something much better!” Vivian began fiddling around with the automat until it produced a strange sort of pot. She smiled proudly as she presented it to Joan.

“What’s this?” Joan looked at the pot from all angles, not sure what she was meant to do with it.

“It’s a butterpie,” Vivian said, beaming. “They’re _wonderful_ , Mum – just the most delicious dessert you can think of!”

Joan wasn’t sure she wanted to try eating something that had come out of a pipe organ – suppose it had gone bad being stored in there? – but she didn’t want to disappoint Vivian. She tugged the dessert out of its pot.

“Isn’t it lovely?” Vivian asked, watching as Joan tasted the buttery, creamy confection.

“It’s certainly very rich,” Joan said, staring down at the butterpie.

Vivian’s smile slowly faded. “Don’t you like it?”

Joan wasn’t sure what to say. A few days ago, she’d been worrying about the government’s plans to institute rationing for the duration of the war. Everyone she knew had been thinking about ways to cut down on butter, milk, eggs, and other such foods, anxious to do their part to support the cause – and now here she sat in a palace, eating a dessert that tasted like it could have provided dairy rations to her entire neighborhood for a week.

“You could try it again,” Vivian said. “Really, it’s even better once you get to the middle – ”

“It’s delicious,” Joan said, forcing a smile. “I’m just not as hungry as I thought. Why don’t you have it for me?”

She handed the butterpie to Vivian and walked away before she could see the disappointment on Vivian’s face.

***

Forgetting about her favorite canned pineapple wasn’t the only change Joan saw in her daughter. Vivian had never been a terribly dedicated student, but now she bent over her schoolwork every day without any prodding from her parents.

“They let me stay here even though they didn’t have to,” Vivian said. “I want to prove I can earn it. And if I learn it all then maybe Faber John won’t laugh during my lessons!”

Joan wasn’t sure what she thought of this reason for Vivian working so hard. She was glad her daughter had finally buckled down to school, but the reasons puzzled her.

And then there was the technology. Not just the machines in Time City, though of course those puzzled Joan too. No, the trouble was the technology back home – or back in Twenty Century, as Vivian called it now. It seemed that Joan had been pulled out while her era was still critical, and from what she understood that meant the home she came from was not quite the home Vivian had left.

Joan remembered living through a time of radiation suits and dangerously explosive trains, when the atom had been split when she was a child and the world had changed because of it. The first World War had been terrible, when a nuclear bomb had been dropped on the trenches in France and wiped out large swathes of both armies. The tragedy had shaped the nations of her childhood and altered the way she thought about the new war.

And for Vivian, this had never happened. The trenches had been a bloody stalemate, and nuclear power was still nothing more than a theory. Vivian had never worn government-issued protective suits to walk to school, and the only trains she knew of were slow, smoke-spewing monstrosities.

All this was just history, though, and Joan could almost ignore it – at least, until she asked Vivian about films.

“Does Time City have a cinema?” Joan asked, when Vivian had finished her homework for the night. “Maybe we could see a film some time.”

“They do!” Vivian said, with the delighted sparkle she always had when talking about her favorite films. “They have ever so many – every film that was ever made!”

Joan laughed at this enthusiasm. “I’m surprised you ever made it out of the theater.”

“There isn’t a theater – we can watch them right here!” Vivian showed Joan yet another collection of buttons.

“Well, that’s very convenient.” Joan gave the buttons a resigned look. “Can they do your 3D movies, as well, or will we need to find glasses?”

“Threedee? Is that a studio?” Vivian asked as she tapped away at the buttons. “Look, here’s the list of films. If there are any of those, I’m sure they’ll be here!”

Joan looked at the list, but she didn’t see it. She felt like she was looking back into the past, back to Vivian’s eleventh birthday last year.

3D films had been released in a few select theaters, and the nearest had been too far for Vivian to visit alone. Vivian had been devastated that she might not get to see the release of the most spectacular film yet, about an American girl who traveled from Kansas to a magical world where everything was 3D.

To celebrate Vivian’s birthday, Henry and Joan had taken her out to the only cinema in London to have 3D films, even waiting in line for over an hour just so that Vivian could have the best seat. They’d taken her to a special dinner afterwards, and Vivian hadn’t been able to stop talking about the wonderful movie and its 3D technology.

“This was the most perfect day ever!” Vivian had gushed to her parents. “I’ll never forget it!”

And it had never happened. Moments that Joan treasured, time spent with her daughter, gifts she’d given and sacrifices she’d made – they’d been wiped away from the past like they hadn’t mattered at all. Vivian would never know any of the past Joan had shared with her daughter.

Vivian might not have died on the train, but Joan couldn’t stop the fear that the daughter she’d known had been lost to history anyway.


	3. Chapter 3

Joan might not understand all the complicated terms the people here in Time City threw at one another, but she had worked out that they thought she came from a version of the past that had gone wrong. Vivian’s version had been wrong too, but not so very bad as Joan’s. Joan didn’t quite dare ask anyone for more details about all this – apart from the fact that they all seemed to be assuming she could cope on her own, she was afraid it might make her cry.

She couldn’t stand another day of everyone else knowing about a time she didn’t understand, though. After Vivian left for school and Henry went off to one of the government offices, Joan headed out to the library.

Fortunately for Joan, the library was not one of the buildings that had collapsed during whatever disruption had caused so many of the buildings here to fall to pieces. It was still in a great deal of disarray, though, since it seemed that many of the books and other valuables stored there had been shaken up and badly damaged.

“Excuse me,” Joan said, stopping one of the librarians who seemed to have a smaller stack of books that the others. “Can you tell me where the books are about – let me see – about Twenty Century?”

It took three different harassed-looking librarians before Joan found an elderly woman willing to direct her. “You’ll need to go to one of the terminals and check there, dear,” she said. “I think a few of the ones on the second floor weren’t too badly damaged.”

This was a relief. The library went up quite a lot of stories, and Joan had been rather alarmed at the possibility of climbing the hundreds of stairs leading to the top. Some of the people on the higher floors looked like they were floating up, but Joan hadn’t the faintest idea how to go about doing such a thing.

No one paid Joan a great deal of attention as she picked her way through the second floor. The terminals had all been shoved into one corner, since the librarians seemed much more concerned with the wellbeing of the books, scrolls, tapestries, and other things.

Joan looked down at one of the terminals and sighed. Wasn’t there anything here that didn’t work by pushing buttons? At least the terminal didn’t seem much more complicated that the machines she’d already had to learn to use. The menu of options looked a great deal like Vivian’s film menu, or the list of foods on that horrid automat.

Twenty Century was near the top of the list of time periods, with the rest of history scrolling on and on off the edge of the screen. Joan ignored that and looked for Twenty Century history.

None of it sounded familiar at all. War broke out around the time she’d left – “within an approximate time span of no less than three months” the terminal noted – and it went on for years. Yes, there was the bomb that Joan recognized, but it fell in Japan. France hadn’t been irradiated, people could still live there, but it seemed that the war had been just as devastating even without the radiation.

Joan scrolled backwards, reading into the history of a time she remembered, learning about events that she should have lived through but had never known. None of the major events of her history seemed to appear. She’d never felt quite so alone as she did sitting in front of that terminal.

“Well, I can’t see that this is helping anything.”

Joan jumped away from the terminal, turning to see a fair-haired woman giving her a frown. The woman looked familiar – had she been one of the librarians? And then Joan recognized her as the woman who had been pointed out to her at a distance as the Time Lady, one of the rulers of Time City.

If she’d been wearing a proper dress instead of these odd suits, Joan would have tried to curtsey. As it was, she bowed as best she could. “I’m sorry, my lady.”

The Time Lady gave Joan an irritable glance. “Don’t start with that nonsense – save the titles for those wretched ceremonies. We certainly have enough of them. I’m Vivian – or the Time Lady, if you must.”

“It’s nice to meet you. I’m Joan Smith.”

“Yes, I know,” the Time Lady said. “Young Vivian Smith’s mother, hauled here out of a version of Twenty Century that had gone worse than critical, without so much as a word of explanation. It’s a wonder you’re managing as well as you have been, with no one bothering to help you along.”

Joan wasn’t sure what to say to this. “Everyone’s been very busy – ”

“Busy isn’t the problem,” the Time Lady interrupted. “Knowledge is. And while the people here know their business with Fixed Eras, they _don’t_ know how to deal with someone from an Unstable one.” She shook her head. “I should have spoken with you about this days ago, but it’s been one crisis after another.” She gestured for Joan to follow her. “Come along, this is better done in private.”

The Time Lady headed off at a brisk pace for another of the houses that had survived the disasters more or less intact. “The protections on Lee House did a reasonable job,” the Time Lady said with some satisfaction as she ushered Joan inside.

To Joan’s surprise, the Time Lady led her into a kitchen. “You don’t use those awful automats!”

The Time Lady laughed as she began pulling things from cupboards. “Not for everything, no. They’re very convenient, but they aren’t much good for certain things.” She set two steaming mugs on the table. “This tea, for instance – my own blend, and very calming. I think it will help you.”

Joan took a hesitant sip. “It’s very good,” she said, smiling at the mellow taste. She wasn’t sure if she enjoyed it more because of the taste, or just because she’d seen the other woman make it with her own two hands.

“It ought to be, with the time it took to perfect.” The Time Lady gave Joan a serious look. “Now, then. Shall we talk about why you were sitting in the library seconds away from fainting?”

“I wasn’t – “

“I do have some healing knowledge, and I say you were.” The Time Lady’s tone brooked no argument. “Now, then. There is something I think you need to understand about Unstable Eras. History has both Fixed Eras and Unstable Eras, but the Fixed Eras depend on the Unstable ones. Events in the Unstable Eras do change from time to time, but,” she leaned forward and gave Joan a very serious look, “despite these changes, the whole of history is not unstable. Do you understand why?”

Joan shook her head slowly. “When you say it like that, it sounds like it should be.”

“But it isn’t,” the Time Lady said. “No matter how unstable an era is, the following Fixed Era can depend on it because some things always happen. Some events always find a way, even if they go a little differently. And do you know why that is?”

Joan thought about what she’d heard since she’d gotten here. “Because Time City makes it happen right?”

The Time Lady cracked a smile. “They’d certainly like to think that’s why – but for all that they’re good, this city can’t actually force the whole of human history to dance to its tune. If Time City were the only thing stopping history from going critical, the whole timeline would explode tomorrow. No, history actually has a great deal of inertia, even with instability, and it isn’t just because of events. It’s because of the people doing them.”

Joan frowned. “I don’t think I understand.”

“I have spent centuries wandering through history in spirit,” the Time Lady said, “and I understand this better than anyone else in the whole of Time City.” She leaned forward and held Joan’s gaze. “History changes, but the people in it stay the same. That is why history can stay balanced even when eras are unstable.”

“How can people be the same when history changes?” Joan asked.

“Because a person is more than the big picture events that happen around them,” the Time Lady said. “Every person in history has his or her own thoughts and dreams and goals, and they all work towards them with all the power they have. People don’t get changed by the history that happens around them, and they always do the things they are going to do. People are the same, even if the window dressing is a little different.”

Joan thought about this. “You mean, even if someone has a different past – ”

“They’re still the same,” the Time Lady finished. “It’s a little tricky to work, I don’t deny, but just keep it in mind. People are always the same, whatever changes happen to the history around them. It’s only the outside that changes – the important things don’t.”

Joan nodded slowly. “I think I see what you mean.” She stood. “Thank you for taking the time to speak with me, my l– I mean, Vivian. You’ve given me a lot to think about.”

The Time Lady nodded briskly. “I mean to. Come back and talk again if it gets bad – don’t go messing about in that library on your own until you know what you’re reading.”

“I won’t,” Joan said, and headed out.

The streets in Time City seemed less lonesome now, with a renewed buzz of activity as the children were let out of school.

“Mum!”

Joan stopped and turned around to see Vivian running up towards her from the school, a delighted smile on her face. “It’s good to see you, dear.”

“Mum, you’ll never guess!” Vivian said, her eyes sparkling. “I was talking to Elio about the film list we have, and it turns out there really is a cinema in one of the old museum rooms. I thought you might like to go there instead of just sitting in our rooms, so he said he’d set it up tonight, just for you and Dad and me!”

Joan smiled – what felt like the first genuine smile she’d had since stepping into this city. “That sounds wonderful, darling.”

“And you’ll never guess what film!” Vivian went on. “The Wizard of Oz, just like we saw on my last birthday! That was such a perfect day, I thought you’d like to see it again. Doesn’t that sound wonderful?”

Joan stared down at Vivian, her eyes sparkling with her familiar love of films, skipping the way she always did when she could barely contain her excitement – and the knot in Joan’s chest finally relaxed as she recognized her daughter again.

“It sounds perfect,” Joan said, hugging her daughter as they walked home


End file.
